


I know your story, but tell me again

by themoonsneverseenmebefore



Category: She-Ra and the Princesses of Power (2018)
Genre: F/F, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Post-Canon, Post-Season 5, alcohol mention
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-02
Updated: 2020-08-02
Packaged: 2021-03-06 07:00:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,505
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25659382
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/themoonsneverseenmebefore/pseuds/themoonsneverseenmebefore
Summary: Adora and Catra take a picture. Catra meets Bow’s dads. Glimmer finds ghosts from the past. Catra and Glimmer wait for a sign. Catra and Adora have a significant anniversary. Adora worries about not being enough. Catra asks George and Lance an important question. There’s a new arrival. Finn wreaks a little bit of havoc. Then, another picture.Or,Two lost girls find and make a family.
Relationships: Adora/Catra (She-Ra)
Comments: 44
Kudos: 416





	I know your story, but tell me again

**Author's Note:**

> Catradora as moms lives rent free in my head so here we are
> 
> Last time I brought you angst with a happy ending and promised fluff the next time and I made good on that!!! There’s a liiiiittle angst but only to make things spicy, nothing bad happens
> 
> I started thinking about how fathers-of-13 Lance and George would react to Catra and Adora having never had parents and going “anyone gonna parent these? no? nice, free daughters”
> 
> One of my dear friends beta’d a section of this that was driving me absolutely nuts thank u vanessa love u <3
> 
> title is from “Is That Alright” from a star is born

In the first few weeks Catra lived at Bright Moon, a lot of things threw her off. She was always quietly asking Adora clarifying questions (“what’s a ‘cousin?’”), and when she saw the castle’s bedrooms, Catra couldn’t hide her astonishment at the amount of trinkets and keepsakes that seemed to fill everyone’s rooms. For a girl who, at the time, could count her worldly possessions on one hand, the number of belongings her new friends had amazed her.

When Bow had shown her his collection of keepsakes, she’d taken in his windowsill covered with half-burned candles, dried flower petals, hand-written notes from Glimmer, and pictures. Lots of pictures. Pictures of Bow as a baby, as a little boy, as a teenager. Pictures of him with his dads, with his brothers, with Glimmer, with Adora. A couple of weeks ago he added one that was a picture of just the two of them, one Bow took while they were waiting for Glimmer and Adora to join them for a picnic on the bank of a river near Bright Moon.

“The lighting is _perfect_!” he’d declared, and Catra felt a warmth bloom deep in her chest that Bow didn’t think twice about wanting a picture of the two of them. He’d gingerly put his arm around her, and Catra didn’t pull away, and Bow held her in a comfortable side hug that made the warm feeling in her grow.

To Catra, pictures seem like carrying a person around with you and having them close no matter where you both are. Something to take out and look at and hold even if you can’t hold the person right then. Bow showed her the picture of him and Glimmer that he keeps with him most of the time, and something in Catra clicked into place.

Which brings her here, now, approaching Adora at her desk in their bedroom. Catra walks right up to her to stand beside her and Adora looks up from her sketchbook, smiling, her attention shifting to Catra. Sometimes it nearly startles Catra, the way Adora trains her focus on Catra so immediately, like there’s nothing and no one else that could steal her attention in that moment. 

“I want a picture of us,” Catra says.

Adora’s eyebrows raise ever so slightly in surprise, but her smile grows, and she starts to reply, but Catra barrels ahead with the rest before she can get too self-conscious.

“Bow has a picture of him and Glimmer and he keeps it with him, and I want one of us to keep with me.”

Adora looks at her, eyes sparkling, like Catra just handed her the moons.

“You want a picture of us?” she breathes.

Catra shifts on her feet, trying to act casual, like it’s not really _that_ big of a deal. “Yeah, one of just the two of us.”

Adora clasps Catra’s hand in hers. “I would love that.”

They ask Bow to take it for them. When he gives them the picture later, they see themselves sitting in the garden outside their bedroom, leaning against each other, Adora’s arm around Catra’s shoulders. Catra is looking up at Adora, smiling, Adora smiling back down at her. Bow was able to capture this particular moment because he hadn’t told them he’d started taking pictures yet.

Glimmer gives them a frame for it, and they place the photograph on top of their dresser. Eventually it’s joined by others, along with notes Adora writes to Catra when she wakes up before her, seashells Catra finds on the beaches in Mystacor. It stays there for many years.

\------

The first time Catra meets Bow’s dads, it’s a few months after the war, and she doesn’t know they’re Bow’s dads at first.

Catra is carrying an armful of books from the Bright Moon library to her room. She didn’t bring her satchel because she thought she’d only be grabbing one or two books, but of course she got caught up in the poetry section, and now she’s got a stack teetering in her arms that nearly obscures her vision, but she’s determined to get them back to her room in one trip.

She’s almost made it back to her room when her questionable hold on the stack of books falters, and Catra thinks she’s about to drop them all, but all of a sudden there’s someone in front of her, catching the books before they fall and tilting them back into her arms.

“Whoa, careful there! You remind me of my husband. I swear he’d carry around twenty books at a time if I’d let him. Oh goodness, this is one of my _favorites_!”

Catra manages to peek around the stack of books in her arms to see a man with long, dark hair, sparkling eyes behind small glasses, and a big, warm smile. He grabs one of the books of poetry off the top of Catra’s stack, admiring the cover and spine.

Before Catra can reply, Bow rounds the corner, accompanied by a man with a mustache that Catra also doesn’t recognize, and walks toward them. “Dad! There you are.” 

“Here I am!” the man exclaims. “I was looking for a bathroom, but this place is huge. It might rival the library!”

Bow chuckles, turning his attention to Catra.

“Catra, these are my dads, Lance and George! Dads, this is my friend Catra.”

 _Friend_. Catra feels a deep affection for Bow in this moment.

“Hi,” Catra says, still peering around her tower of books. “It’s really good to meet you.”

Lance, the one with the glasses, turns his bright smile back to Catra. “Oh, Catra, of course! It’s wonderful to meet you. Bow has told us so much about you!”

Catra is apprehensive at first. There’s a _lot_ Bow could’ve told them. But both men are smiling at Catra without reservation, so Catra decides to trust Bow, and by extension, his dads. If they raised Bow, they must be okay.

“My dads are staying for the weekend,” Bow explains. “They’ll be with us at dinner tonight.” Bow winks at Catra, then turns to his dads. “You know, dads, Catra has been spending a lot of time in the library here. She reminds me of the two of you sometimes.”

The two men look at Catra as though this is the best news they could’ve possibly received about her.

“Well, then, you must come visit _our_ library!” George says.

“Yes, you must!” agrees Lance. “ _Much_ more comprehensive than Bright Moon’s,” he whispers to Catra conspiratorially.

“I’m going to make a list of a few titles you should see. The first two volumes of _The Essential History of Etheria_ , certainly,” George says.

“And I’ll bake for us, of course,” Lance continues. “Catra, you like lemon bars, I’m sure?”

Catra is pretty sure that lemons are sort of round, not shaped like bars, but she’s a bit overwhelmed in general and isn’t sure what to say. “Um—”

“Dads!” Bow interjects, his voice rising into that high pitch it gets when _he’s_ overwhelmed. “Let’s let Catra get these books back to her room. We can all talk about it more at dinner.”

George pats Catra’s shoulder, and to her own surprise, she doesn’t flinch. “Of course. We’ll iron out the details later.”

Bow shoots a quick, apologetic glance to Catra. “We’ll see you tonight, okay?”

“Yeah, sounds good,” Catra says, doing her best to give Bow a reassuring smile.

“Lovely to meet you, Catra!” Lance calls behind his shoulder as they walk away.

Catra smiles to herself, bemused. She doesn’t know what to make of Bow’s dads, but she thinks she likes them.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


That night, Lance and George tell so many stories about Bow as a baby and tantrum-throwing toddler that Bow looks simultaneously embarrassed and amused by his dads’ anecdotes. Glimmer is laughing so hard she’s crying, and Catra can tell she’ll use these stories as ammunition for a _while_. She plans to help.

The four of them take Lance and George on a nighttime walk through Bright Moon’s grounds, lanterns and fireflies lighting their way. Catra and George end up at the back of the group while Adora, Bow, and Glimmer update Lance on their plans for their next journey into space.

“So, Catra, what do _your_ parents think about Bright Moon?” George says.

Catra freezes, momentarily unsure what to say. She settles on the truth, not seeing a way around it. “Um—I don’t have parents,” she says, a bit awkwardly.

George’s manner softens right away. “Of course. Please forgive me, Catra. Bow told me, but it must have completely slipped my mind. Dad brain!” he says, eyes full of compassion. “Tell me, what would you say is the best book you’ve read recently? And don’t tell me the title; I want to guess!”

Normally, something like this would make Catra desperately uncomfortable, have her looking for a way out, but something about George’s sincerity without dwelling on the moment makes her feel grounded. They continue their conversation with much greater ease than Catra would’ve expected.

Catra and George eventually rejoin the group, but for the rest of the night, he and Lance both pay close attention to Catra and Adora, something like concern on both their faces.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  


On Catra’s first visit to the library, she’s with Adora, Bow, and Glimmer, and the four of them spend an entire afternoon in the cheerful company of Lance and George. It’s one of Catra’s favorite days they’ve had since the end of the war.

They begin with a tour of the library, which even Glimmer and Adora never got the chance to take before now, and all three of them are awed by the immensity and beauty of the place. Bookshelves floor to ceiling, a dizzying array of historical artifacts, and everything smells sort of sweet, like the cinnamon Adora puts in their coffee. Pictures of Bow and his siblings are on just about every surface. Lance serves the lemon bars he mentioned when they first met, and Catra _does_ like them. The sharp tang lingers on Catra’s tongue as she keeps getting distracted by overflowing bookshelves that must contain every book in Etheria.

It’s also on this day that Catra notices George and Lance tend to hover around her and Adora. Not in an unpleasant way, just a little overly attentive, always asking them if they need anything. 

“Like what?” Adora asked Lance after one of these inquiries, genuinely curious, as if he might know about something they needed that they were unaware of.

“Oh, just anything, anything at all!” Lance replied. “If you ever need anything, all you have to do is ask.”

Catra mentions this to Bow back in Bright Moon, and Bow shrugs, explaining, “they’re historians, but they’re also kind of, like, professional dads. They don’t like the idea of anyone having never had parents.”

“I like your dads. A lot,” Catra says, truthfully, and Bow beams at her.

And so begin Catra’s visits to George and Lance’s library.

Every two weeks, Catra goes to the library to return the last trip’s books and pick up the next stack George and Lance have pulled for her from their vast collection. They always insist that she stay for tea (or coffee, which Catra and George sometimes prefer), and they tell her about their latest discoveries, rapturously describing newly acquired and extremely rare manuscripts they spend hours pouring over. They always send her home with something in addition to the books: jam, bread, a tea towel, once.

A few months in, Catra asks Bow if she’s going there too much, if maybe Lance and George are just being nice. She has trouble, sometimes, understanding how the two men are so generous, so open. Micah is very much the same, and while Catra has come to understand that Micah’s care for them is genuine, she’s not used to adults like these.

“What? No way! They love you!” Bow says. “They’re always telling me how good you are with their organizational system. Which, believe me, is a very high compliment coming from them.”

Catra feels something like pride bubble up inside of her, honored by Lance and George’s praise, grateful that they think of her that way.

“I really like going over there,” Catra says, and these words don’t cover it, but she’s not sure how to express exactly how it makes her feel.

Bow smiles like he already understands.

\------

They’re still going through the Horde files, but after the incident a couple of months ago, Glimmer has been very careful about who digs through what. It might not end up helping, but she doesn’t want Catra or Adora getting blindsided like that again, not if she can help it.

That’s why when she finds the photos, she wonders, just for a moment, if she should even tell them.

There’s not many photos taken in the Fright Zone at all, and the ones that do exist seem random, as if some commanding officer ordered a cadet to begin a visual record of the Horde’s base and operations with little instruction beyond that. There’s shots of the Fright Zone taken from up high, the miniscule figures of officers below going about their day-to-day duties, shots of Horde bots in various states of assembly, of cargo being unloaded from skiffs. All of them are dated in the last five years or so before the end of the war.

The ones that make Glimmer catch her breath are the few taken inside, the ones that have people in them. The ones that can really only be described as candids.

The one where she spots a teenaged Catra and Adora in the background, unaware they’re being photographed.

The larger picture shows a room full of cadets in what appears to be training gear, some sparring, but even more milling around. Catra and Adora are off to the right side of the picture, in the background, not the focal point of the picture at all, easily missed if you were to look quickly.

Catra is leaning against a metal wall, one foot raised and pressed back against it, her arms crossed over her chest, and Adora is standing in front of and slightly to her side, one arm leaning against the wall next to Catra’s head. They’re smiling at each other. They look _young_. Glimmer thinks she might cry. The sight of them smiling at each other like _that_ , even _then_ , makes her smile, too. But the sight of them back there, back before she knew either of them, before she could love them and protect them, makes her heart hurt.

Glimmer knows she needs to show them. They’ve had enough hidden from them, taken from them, had to live enough lies and secrets already. And this isn’t a bad secret. It’s just them, together, from before. So she goes to find Adora.

Adora is sitting on the rug on the floor of her and Catra’s bedroom when Glimmer walks in. Adora spends hours with her oversized sketchbook, ruler, and writing tools, drawing rivers, roads, and mountains from the planets they visit. She’s filled three already, and Catra moved a bookshelf into their room to store them, along with her own books from George and Lance.

Glimmer knocks lightly on the door frame, and Adora looks up, pencil paused in the air.

“Glimmer! Come see this.”

Glimmer walks towards Adora and sits down next to her on the rug, the small envelope containing her discovery in her hand.

“Oooh, this is a new one!” Glimmer says, admiring the even, sure strokes of the dimensions of a winding river. “It’s so pretty.”

Adora beams. “This one’s going really well.”

Glimmer grins back at her, happy that Adora has begun to spend her time like this, something she does just because she likes it. Then she remembers why she’s here.

Glimmer decides to say it quickly, not make either of them wait.

“I found a picture of you and Catra in the Horde. Or, well, it’s a picture of some sort of training session, and the two of you are in the background. I just—I felt like it was important for you to know.”

Adora is stunned. It takes her a few seconds to speak. 

“Are you sure?”

“I’m sure,” Glimmer replies, gently. She holds up the envelope in her hand. “I—I have it, here, if you want to see it. It’s nothing bad, it’s just the two of you standing together. But if you’re not ready, if you don’t want to see it at all, I’ll just put it away until you want to, if you ever do. There’s no pressure, okay?”

Adora nods, the shock of Glimmer’s news beginning to wane. She looks vulnerable, delicate. “I—I want to see it.”

Glimmer hands her the envelope. “Okay.” 

Adora opens the envelope gingerly, pulls the picture out with her thumb and forefinger, like she’s afraid that if she touches it too much, it’ll disintegrate in her hands.

Adora spots herself and Catra right away, and a gradual, faint smile grows on her face. She brushes her thumb over the right edge of the picture where her teenage self looks at teenage Catra. Without warning, Adora’s eyes widen and begin to shine with tears.

Glimmer places her hands on Adora’s shoulders, makes Adora look her in the eye. 

“Are you okay?”

Adora closes her eyes and nods, once, then opens them again.

“I am, really, I am. It’s—sorry, it’s just, the date. That’s from—that’s from the day before I got my Force Captain badge. The day before I found the sword.”

Glimmer inhales, sharp, the weight of the knowledge landing on her chest. She hugs Adora now, arms tight around her waist, and Adora holds on, the two of them sitting there, the past and the present together.

  
  
  
  
  
Adora finds Catra outside with Melog.

It rained last night and it’s cloudy still, the ground damp and spongy under Adora’s feet. Catra is, of course, barefoot; she loves it when it rains.

Catra spots her and smiles, but then her eyes narrow, just barely, and Adora knows there’s not a way around Catra’s ability to read her.

It at least helps Adora to drop any pretenses and tell Catra what she came to tell her.

“Hey, Catra.”

“Hey. “What’s up?” Catra keeps her voice even, but her tone is edged with unease.

“Glimmer found something. It’s a picture. Of us. From—from a long time ago.”

Catra is confused more than anything else. “I don’t understand. From when?”

“From when we were in the Horde.”

Catra stills.

“It’s not bad,” Adora says hurriedly. “I think—you might want to see it.”

Adora holds out the envelope towards Catra.

Catra is still wary, and for good reason. The last time Adora brought her something like this was . . . difficult, to say the least. But she takes the envelope from Adora anyway, and when she has the picture in her hands, it takes her a second to find what she’s supposed to see. When she does, her hands begin to shake, the picture trembling in her grasp, and Adora steps forward, ready to take it back, ready to do something, when Catra reaches out to her and places her hand on Adora’s arm.

“I’m okay,” Catra says. “Really.”

Adora isn’t convinced, not yet, and she watches Catra carefully. But then, Catra looks up at Adora, sort of dazed, but she’s not upset, no trace of hurt in her mismatched eyes.

“It’s us,” Catra says.

Adora gives her a small smile. “It is.”

“We look—”

“— _Young_.”

“ _Really_ young. I don’t think we knew how young we were,” Catra says, wonder in her voice.

Adora tucks a piece of Catra’s hair behind her ear, thumb grazing Catra’s jaw.

Catra pauses. “It’s from right before, isn’t it?”

Adora nods. “Yes.”

Catra starts to speak, but stops herself. Then, “I think—I think we should keep it.”

Adora lets out a breath, unaware she’d been holding it.

“I think so too.”

They stand there together, looking at themselves from so long ago, thinking about everything that would follow this moment that was captured by accident.

They get a little drunk that night and wrap themselves around each other, whispering promises against each other’s lips, reminding themselves of the reality of the present and the possibilities of the future.

\------

It’s supposed to be a few days on another planet. One that’s not too far from Etheria’s star system. They contacted Bright Moon to ask for She-Ra’s help with their planet’s magic, which has been behaving strangely. It’s just a few days. One day to get there, two days there, another day back. So quick that Glimmer and Catra decide to stay in Bright Moon. There’s so much to be done here, at home, so they say their goodbyes, and Bow, Adora, and Entrapta board Darla and head off into space. It’s nothing they haven’t done a dozen times in the past three years since their first excursion into space.

Later, Catra will marvel at how secure she must've felt to watch Adora fly away in that ship without her.

Bow calls them when the three of them land, and everything is fine. They talk to Bow, Adora, and Entrapta every morning and every night. On the fourth day, Catra and Glimmer get a call just an hour after their usual morning conversation with the crew on Darla. Bow and Adora look worried, and Entrapta is scurrying back and forth behind them, making various concerning noises.

“Hey, Glimmer, Catra,” Bow says, haltingly. “Something came up.”

Glimmer and Catra exchange a quick glance.

“What’s going on?” Glimmer asks, voice already urgent.

“There’s some . . . unexpected obstacles in the way, going home,” Adora says. “But Entrapta’s working on it.”

“What do you mean ‘obstacles?’” Catra asks, anxious.

“It looks like a bad storm, whatever it is,” Adora says. “Entrapta isn’t sure if we’ll be able to—to contact you as we go through it.”

Catra’s heart seizes, but she tries to keep her voice even. “Do you have any idea how long it’ll take?”

Adora pauses, looking torn. “No, we’re not sure. We might have to stop at some point, if anything happens to the ship.”

Glimmer tenses next to Catra.

“Bow, Adora. Listen to me,” Glimmer says.

Bow and Adora wait, listening.

“Do not, and I mean this, do _not_ take any risks. Go slow, take your time. Do not take any risks. Do you hear me?”

Adora and Bow both nod, vigorously. “We’ll be careful, Glimmer,” Bow says, earnestly. “I promise.”

Adora looks at them now, like there’s a thousand things she wants to say and she can’t decide on just one. Until she does.

“Take care of each other.”

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


They lose contact with Darla the next day.

A week goes by.

Catra and Glimmer pace the grounds, hand in hand, mostly not speaking.

They talk to Lance and George every night, trying to encourage each other, console each other. Micah makes dinner for Catra and Glimmer. He hugs Glimmer close, then turns to Catra, giving her a kind, sad smile, taking her hands in his.

“Don’t give up, Catra,” Micah says, clasping her hands, eyes earnest.

Catra stares at the picture of her and Adora in the garden that sits on their dresser.

It’s worst at night, so Glimmer and Catra pile a bunch of pillows, and blankets, and throws and put them on the balcony attached to Glimmer and Bow’s room, making a pallet, and they sleep there each night, staring at the sky above, waiting for a sign.

Glimmer starts crying next to her, and Catra holds out her hand, and Glimmer takes it.

“On Prime’s ship, you told me we just had to take each day as it came, not think about it too hard. Do you remember that?” Glimmer asks.

“I remember,” Catra says.

“I felt like that was one of the hardest things I’d ever have to do. Going day by day there. But this feels harder. I’m realizing . . . this is probably what they felt like, when it was us up there.”

Catra’s throat constricts.

“Don’t leave me,” Glimmer says, her voice strained.

“I’m not going anywhere, Sparkles. I’ve got you.”

“I’ve got you, too.”

Catra squeezes Glimmer’s hand. “Good.”

  
  
  
  
  
  
  


Catra is actually distracted when it happens.

She’s in the kitchen slicing fruit and squeezing lemons and limes, tossing them into a large pitcher with two different kinds of alcohol because it’s something to do, and maybe she and Glimmer have been drinking a little more than usual, but so what? Their spouses who also happen to be their best friends are god knows where, and will be gone for god knows how long, and they’ve sought out some oblivion lately.

Catra brushes a strand of hair out of her face, tucking it back into place, continuing on with her task. Her hair is long now, longer than it’s been in her life, actually, curly and hanging down around her waist, and she’s pulled it back with an oval, wooden hair pin that Scorpia gave her. She remembered to put on her linen apron this time, saving the white t-shirt she’s wearing (that is maybe, _technically_ , Adora’s) from fruit juice stains.

Catra is fully focused on the rhythmic motion of the knife she’s using to cut strawberries when she hears Glimmer scream from outside.

“ _Catra!_ ”

Startled, terrified by the pitch of Glimmer’s voice, thoughts racing with what fresh crisis could be facing them now, Catra peals out of the kitchen and runs into the courtyard, bare feet hitting the patio stones as she frantically scans the area for Glimmer.

Catra sees her at the edge of the clearing beyond the courtyard.

Glimmer’s looking up at the sky.

Catra runs to join her and looks up with Glimmer. It’s the ship, and it’s on it’s way to landing in front of them.

She wonders if she’s dreaming as Darla lands without any problem at all, as if the ship isn’t carrying Catra’s entire world.

Catra is running now, running towards the ship as fast as she can, and she knows Glimmer is right behind her, and then the gangplank lowers and Bow is the first one out, and he’s squinting in the sun, and she hears Glimmer almost sob with relief behind her, and Catra’s heart is fit to burst with anticipation, with fear, with _hope_ , and it’s at the moment she thinks she’ll scream with frustration that Adora follows Bow out of the ship as She-Ra, and Catra closes the rest of the distance between them.

She jumps and wraps herself around She-Ra’s tall, strong frame, and in an instant she’s Adora again, and she’s holding Catra, holding her, and holding her, and holding her, so tightly, like she’ll never let go.

Catra can’t stop touching her, checking every part of her to make sure that she’s _here_ , and she’s _whole_.

“Are you okay? Are you hurt?” Catra asks, cradling Adora’s head in her hands, running her fingers through Adora’s hair. 

“I’m okay now,” Adora replies, tears tracking down her face, and she kisses Catra now, and Catra hooks her arms around Adora’s neck and kisses her back, desperate to feel that she’s solid and real. Catra is shaking so hard she knows Adora can feel it, and Adora just holds her tighter.

They finally let go, just for a second, and then Bow is next to Catra and she throws her arms around him, and she’s crying now, too, probably has been for the last few minutes and didn’t notice, and so is Bow, and then Entrapta appears and Catra pulls her into the hug, and then Adora and Glimmer are there, and the five of them cluster together, crying and even beginning to laugh, with relief, with joy, and the world feels a little bit steadier under their feet.

  
  
  
  
  


Afterward, in their bedroom, it’s late. Really late. Or early, probably. But it’s still dark, and the only lights in the room are a few candles they haven’t blown out yet. Catra’s back is pressed against Adora’s front, and their legs are tangled together under the warm bed covers. They’ve been quiet for a few minutes, and the silence has spun that particular magic that only exists in the hours that are not quite night, not quite morning. It seems like the time to bring up something that seems a little bit like magic itself.

“Hey, Adora?”

“Yeah?”

Catra takes a deep breath, turns over in Adora’s arms to face her.

“I want to talk about a baby again. I feel ready. Or as ready as I _can_ feel about this, I guess. I know you need time, but I just want to check in every now and then because we haven’t talked about it in a little over a year, and if you need us to wait I completely understand, I’ll wait as long as you need, I just want to—”

Adora stops her here by cupping Catra’s face in her hands, pressing a light kiss to her lips.

“I’m ready, too.”

Catra searches Adora’s eyes, looking for any sign that she might not be completely, _absolutely_ certain.

“Are you sure? Really sure?” Catra says, placing her hands over Adora’s.

“I am,” Adora replies. “I was actually looking for an opportunity to bring it up, but you beat me to it.”

Adora is grinning, and she looks like sunlight, and she always does, but right now she’s almost blinding in her beauty and her promise, and Catra has that feeling again that she’s looking at her future, and whatever that future is will be good because it’ll always be Adora.

They finally fall asleep, and when Catra wakes up, Adora is there. Catra traces her forefinger across a sleeping Adora’s forehead, down her nose, over her lips, resting on her chin. Adora cracks one eye open and smirks.

“Creep.”

Catra pretends to shove Adora’s face away. “I resent that accusation.”

Adora snorts and grabs Catra’s hand, tugging Catra towards her. “Come here, baby.”

Catra lets Adora pull her onto Adora’s chest, and she slips in and out of sleep for the rest of the morning, listening to Adora’s heartbeat.

\------

She and Adora find out on their fifth wedding anniversary, and the significance of that one day knocks the wind out of her. Catra takes a step back from it for a moment, taking in the wide, sweeping arc of her life, and stands in awe. Married to her best friend, the girl she’s been in love with since before she really knew what that meant, pregnant with the baby she’s been thinking about and wanting for a long time now.

Adora quite literally sweeps her off her feet at the news and spins her around, peppering her face with kisses, and Catra squeals, happy and dizzy and so, so content.

Adora sets her down and looks at Catra, her expression soft, reverent. “I can’t believe that technically, all three of us are here right now.”

Catra’s breath catches. “You’re such a sap,” she breathes, trying to tease Adora, but her entire body is humming.

Adora presses her forehead to Catra’s. “Please, you love it.”

Catra chuckles. “Yeah, yeah, I do.”

They’re so excited that they don’t stop talking for an hour about everything from names, to the nursery, to how they’re going to tell Bow and Glimmer.

It’s in the middle of this conversation that Adora’s eyes go wide. “Oh, my god, we have to curse less. Our baby’s first word can’t be ‘fuck’!”

“Why not? That’d be hilarious.”

“Catra!” Adora shrieks, but she’s laughing.

“I’m _kidding_ ,” Catra laughs. “I’m sure we can handle not saying ‘fuck’ around our baby.”

“Not the hardest thing we’ve done together, probably,” Adora smirks.

Catra rolls her eyes. “If the hardest thing we have to do from now on is mind our language around an infant, I think we can handle it.”

  
  
  
  
  
  
  


When they start telling people about the baby, everyone’s reactions make Catra feel surrounded by more love than she almost knows what to do with. She’s loved these people for years now, and yet the care and excitement they shower her and Adora with makes Catra’s heart incredibly tender, filling her with a gratitude that spills out of her in more hugs and “I love you’s” than she thinks she’s given in her life.

“I’m an _aunt_!” Glimmer shrieks, clutching Adora’s shoulders and shaking them, who’s cackling at Glimmer’s enthusiasm.

Bow pulls Catra and Adora into his arms, eyes welling with tears. “I’m telling you, I was _born_ to be an uncle.”

“That’s gonna be a pretty cool baby,” Mermista tells Catra later, smiling. Sea Hawk agrees, and when he starts singing about it, Mermista doesn’t even try to stop him.

Scorpia is overjoyed for them, and she hugs Catra so enthusiastically she lifts Catra off the floor before setting her down, promptly apologetic.

“Oh, gosh, sorry! You’re delicate! Sorry, I’m just so happy for you two!”

Catra, laughing breathlessly, stops her.

“It’s okay! That’s not the first time I’ve gotten that reaction,” she laughs. “Thank you, Scorpia. Flora will have someone close to her age to play with.”

Scorpia beams, like she does at any mention of her and Perfuma’s three-month-old daughter. “Oh, they’re going to be the _best_ of friends! I can _feel_ it.”

Catra hugs Scorpia now. “Love you, Scorp.”

Scorpia hugs her back with all the might and affection Catra associates with Scorpia’s hugs. “Love you too, wildcat.”

  
  
  
  
  
  


Glimmer and Bow make dinner for the four of them. It’s a long, drawn out meal, the best kind, the kind with conversation that meanders from topic to topic naturally, and Catra savors the company of the people she loves most, thinking about the one that will join them not too long from now.

Catra rests her hands on her stomach instinctively. _There won’t be a day of your life where you aren’t loved._

It’s getting late, and they’re about to start cleaning up, but then Glimmer claps her hands. “Wait! This calls for a picture! Everybody get in.”

Glimmer grabs her camera and turns it on the four of them and they all huddle closer together, arms around each other, fitting into the frame.

\------

Adora knows she’s frustrating Catra, but she honestly doesn’t care. Nothing is happening to Catra and the baby, not on her watch.

“I’m pregnant, not sick!” Catra says, exasperated.

Adora smirks. “You’re kind of sick, though. You throw up every morning.”

“That’s _supposed_ to happen, Adora. It’s literally called ‘morning sickness!’”

“I’m just _teasing_ , I know you’re not sick. But I’m also not letting you carry all of those back to the library by yourself, so just let me help this time, okay?” Adora says.

“Okay, fine. _This_ time,” Catra says, pretending to still be annoyed, but Adora can tell she’s enjoying it.

They’ve seen a lot of incredible things together. They’ve seen the _world_ together, and everything beyond it, just like they always said they would when they were growing up. But the first time they feel the baby kick, both of them with their hands pressed to Catra’s stomach, most other things seem to pale in comparison.

All of it makes Adora _tender_. Kind of sore, but not in a bad way. Catra is already like watching her soul living outside of her body, and now there’s about to be someone else, a whole person that they’re bringing here who will be a part of _both_ of them out in the world.

It scared Adora for a long time. She knew she wanted kids. More than one, hopefully, and yet it took her a while to feel like she could have them. Catra was ready before her, but Catra never pushed her, never once made her feel like she should hurry or that she was holding them back.

Not long after Adora and Catra got married, a well-meaning but definitely nosy emissary from Eridani asked Adora about kids, and while Glimmer deflected the question and redirected the conversation, it sent Adora spiraling in a way she wasn’t expecting. When Catra found Adora on the window seat in their room, looking out the window in silence, she could tell Adora was off.

“What’s going on?”

Adora sighed. She wasn’t even sure herself, but she made herself start. “I feel bad.”

Catra shifted at this, almost imperceptibly, but Adora saw it. “About what?”

“About not knowing when—when I want us to have kids.”

Catra’s eyebrows knitted together, confused. “But . . . you know that we’re not in a hurry. You don’t need to know when.”

“I know, I just—I feel bad.”

Catra joined her on the window seat then, slipped her arm around Adora’s waist.

Face close to Adora’s, she asked, in a hushed voice, “What’s this really about?”

Adora covered her face with her hands. “I’m scared I wouldn’t be a good mother.”

Catra didn’t say anything at first. She raised her hand and swept Adora’s bangs away from her face, combing her fingers through Adora’s hair, and Adora finally managed to look at her.

Catra looked worried. “Adora . . . why do you think that?”

“Because what do I know about being a mom? How do I—I don’t even know how to prepare for 

it, how to make sure I—I do it right.”

Catra tightened her grasp around Adora’s waist.

“Adora, you’re the most—the most _loving_ person I’ve ever known. Any kid would be lucky to have you as a mom.”

“But what if I don’t know how to love a kid?”

Catra stroked her hand up and down Adora’s back, the touch rhythmic and soothing. “I’m going to make a guess, so tell me if I’m wrong.”

Adora nodded, not completely sure what was coming, but starting to get an idea.

“Does this have something to do with Shadow Weaver?” Catra asked gently, so gently.

Adora wilted, her shoulders slumping forward.

“She _used_ me. I was just a kid and she _used_ me and made me think that’s what it was to _love_ me. And I believed that for such a long time. I don’t know—I don’t know what it would even look like to be a mom. What if I can’t protect them? What if someone hurts them? Like . . . like people hurt us?”

“Adora, _no_. Their life is going to be so different from ours. So different. And you don’t have to protect them alone. I’ll be here, too. I know it’s scary. I’m not ready either, not yet. But if we do it, we’re doing it together.”

Adora took a deep breath. “Together.”

“I’m going to ask you one more thing, and I need you to be honest,” Catra said. “Completely honest.”

“I can do that,” Adora replied.

“Have you changed your mind about kids? Because it’s okay if you have. It’s not a dealbreaker. Not for me.”

“No, that’s the thing, I really, _really_ do. I think that’s part of why this is so hard. I really want it so— _so_ bad.”

Catra placed her hands on either side of Adora’s face and drew her into a kiss. Adora gave into it, tension seeping from her shoulders.

Catra broke the kiss, brushing her thumbs over Adora’s lips. “Then we’ll do it. When you’re ready. When we’re both ready. Not before. Okay?”

Adora felt weightless in a way that made her realize she didn’t know how heavy she’d been feeling.

Adora glided her hands down Catra’s arms, taking her hands in hers, interlocking their fingers. “I just—I want you to have the life you want.”

Catra squeezed Adora’s hands. “ _You’re_ the life I want. I want _you_. Everything else is a bonus. I’m in this for _you_.”

Adora felt shaky and grounded at the same time. “Really?”

Catra laughed, smiling at her with exasperated fondness. “You’re such an idiot. Yes, really.”

Adora laughed and nudged Catra’s shoulder with hers, and Catra nudged her back.

“I really love you,” Adora said.

Catra blushed, and looked down, and Adora revelled some in the knowledge that she was the reason.

“I really love you, too,” she replied in a low voice.

Now, here, years later, Adora still gets scared sometimes. She worries. She worries about Catra, and the baby, and the future, but more and more, that worry is getting replaced with excitement.

Every time she looks at Catra, she feels a thrill, and that’s always happened, if she’s honest, for all of her life that she can remember, but it’s new, too. It’s the thrill of knowing she’s beginning a new, big adventure, that she’s doing it with her best friend. An adventure that, for all their talk as teenagers, they never could have dreamed up as they sat side by side on the highest peak of the Fright Zone, their hands a breath away from each other but not quite touching.

Catra is telling Adora about a book she just finished that they’ve now returned to Bright Moon’s library. Adora holds out her hand for Catra who takes it, pausing in her story just long enough to kiss Adora’s hand, and then Catra is tugging her towards the kitchen, saying something about how she suddenly and inexplicably really wants a sliced tomato.

Adora happily lets herself be pulled along. She’ll follow her anywhere.

\------

It’s early on a chilly autumn morning when Catra wakes up and decides she needs to go to George and Lance’s today. She wasn’t planning to go to the library again until two days from now, but she suddenly knows she needs to, and she doesn’t think George and Lance will mind.

She steals Adora’s blue flannel to wear over a close-fitting black, long sleeve shirt and black leggings. She likes the pressure. It makes her feel secure, like she and the baby are both wrapped up, safe.

When she arrives at the library, she hesitates the smallest bit before knocking, momentarily unsure. Then she remembers Lance’s years of insistence that their home is her home and decides to believe him. She knocks, and it’s just a few moments later that the door in front of her opens.

It’s George, and he smiles wide as soon as he sees her. “Catra! What a pleasant surprise!”

Catra smiles in response, but almost apologetically as Lance appears behind George. “Yeah, I’m sorry to just show up. Is now okay? I, uh . . . I just wanted to talk to you both about something.”

George scoops her into a hug and squeezes tight, careful not to crush her belly, reminding Catra of Bow’s enthusiastic, comforting hugs.

“Of course! You know you’re welcome here any time.”

“How close are you again?” Lance asks, excitedly.

“I’m a month and a half out now,” Catra says.

“Oh, this is just—this is just _so_ exciting! George, isn’t this so _exciting_?” Lance gushes.

“ _So_ exciting,” George replies, beaming.

Catra laughs, happy she came here today, happy that George and Lance are the way they are. “I’m really excited, too.”

“Well, come in, come in! You can join us for tea,” Lance says, guiding her inside.

The three of them sit together in the sunroom, hands curled around cups of steaming hot tea, and George tells Catra all about a collection of ancient Etherian manuscripts they recently discovered.

Catra blurts it out in a brief lull in conversation when George is refilling Lance’s cup before she can become too self-conscious, before she can talk herself out of saying what she came here to say.

“You’re really good parents.”

George and Lance both look surprised, and Lance tears up, George placing a soothing hand on his arm.

“That’s very kind of you to say, Catra,” George says, earnestly.

Catra blushes, the sincerity of her statement understood by the two men, so she says the rest before she can change her mind.

“You’re both really good parents, and I—I want to be a good mom, and I already love whoever this is going to be so— _so_ much, and I want to do right by them, and I’ve been reading a lot about how to take care of them, and I feel pretty good about that, and I’ve also taken care of Flora, Scorpia’s daughter, a lot, so I have practice, but there’s so much more to it than just diapers and feeding and sleep training, and there’s so many things I want to teach them, and want them to know, and how much I love them—”

Lance is by Catra’s side now, wrapping his arms around her shoulders, pulling her into a close but gentle hug. It’s not until that moment that Catra realizes she’s begun to cry. Not a lot, just a few stray tears of pent up emotion, and likely some stress, but also the baby is kicking again and that _always_ gets her. 

Catra hugs Lance back, and now George has joined them, and the three of them create a small huddle of arms, Catra sniffling softly between them. The tears begin to subside, and Lance and George crouch down next to her, one on either side of the armchair she’s sitting in.

George gives Catra a tissue and she wipes the last of her tears away. 

“How did you do it? How did you do such a good job?”

George and Lance exchange a quick look, and George says, “We love our kids more than most things in this world, but we haven’t done everything perfectly.”

Lance nods, and continues. “We’ve made mistakes, too. Sometimes we haven’t . . . listened to our kids when they needed us to, tried to push them towards things that they didn’t want, that weren’t right for them. The most important thing, at least that we’ve found, is to love them. Love them _big_ , without holding back, and without holding _them_ back, if you can help it.”

“That’s what I want to do,” Catra says. “But I get scared sometimes. What if I can’t do it?”

George takes one of her hands in his. “Catra, just by asking these questions, just by thinking about these things, caring this much, planning the way that you are—you’re going to be a good mom because of those things. Any kid with a mom who loves them that much is going to be okay. And your baby will have _two_.”

Catra thinks about Adora, about the way she spent two hours putting together the baby’s crib, telling Catra to sit and watch and hand her tools as she needed them.

“You’re already growing a person,” Adora had said. “You relax and let me do this part.”

She thinks about the way Adora carefully folded the baby’s clothes, organizing them in neat rows in the small chest of drawers in the nursery. How she brings Catra tea every morning. Calm takes over Catra’s worry to some extent and she can breathe a little easier.

“They’ll have both of us,” Catra says, relaxing into that knowledge. “Me and Adora.”

Lance nods encouragingly. “You and Adora.”

George and Lance send her home with a jar of honey, a bag full of books, and blanket that George knitted for the baby. It’s a muted, mustard yellow, and it has the letters “CA” embroidered in one corner.

“We know you’re not telling anyone the name until after the baby is born, so we thought it might be nice for the baby to have their moms’ initials on the blanket,” George explains.

Catra stares at the blanket, astonished. Her baby isn’t even here yet and they already have something to keep them warm. Catra throws her arms around George, hugging him.

“Thank you,” she whispers.

  
  
  
  
  
  


Back at home in Bright Moon, Catra leisurely thumbs through a book from the day’s haul about rare Etherian flora and fauna, pausing on a page with pictures of a tall, stalk-like plant with blue flowers at the top that hang down like tassels. She sticks a small piece of paper in the spine to mark this page. She’s going to ask Perfuma if she’s ever seen this one before.

It had taken some convincing, but Adora, Glimmer, and Bow persuaded Catra not to work for the last two months leading up to the baby being born. When Catra initially resisted the idea, Glimmer shut her down quickly.

“Can you please just focus on yourself for eight weeks?” Glimmer said, exasperated. “I thought Adora was the workaholic in your relationship, but you’re both insufferable.”

So Catra had rather begrudgingly agreed, but even she could admit that the break felt nice.

The door to the bedroom opens and Adora walks in. She brightens when she sees Catra. “There you are, my love. When did you get back?”

Catra can’t stop the wide smile growing on her face, so she doesn’t try. Sometimes she wonders if her heart will ever stop doing that flippy thing it does when she sees Adora. She doesn’t think it will. (She doesn’t want it to.)

“About an hour ago,” Catra says. “Are you done for the day?”

“Ugh, yes, finally. I don’t want to talk to anyone but you for at least a day.”

Adora flops down on the bed next to her dramatically at this, and Catra laughs, pretending to shove Adora’s face away as she plants obnoxiously noisy kisses all over Catra’s face.

Adora pulls back, laughing breathlessly, giving Catra’s nose a light peck.

“How was the library today?”

Catra smiles. “Wonderful, like always. I want to tell you about it.”

So she pulls the blanket out of her satchel and tells Adora about her day.

\------

Catra goes into labor a week early and she can’t help but feel like she should’ve seen this coming.

The pregnancy has been blissfully uneventful. There was the morning sickness, and lower back pain, and Adora insisted on carrying her around a lot (which she initially pretended to be unaffected by but actually really loved), but all in all, it was completely normal. Standard. Her doctors told her that everything was progressing exactly as it should. Ironically, growing a _person_ with her body is probably one of the easier things Catra’s done in her life.

So of course the baby has decided to appear early.

The closer they’ve gotten to the due date, Adora staunchly refuses to be more than an hour’s distance from Bright Moon and Catra, just in case. And today, she’s even closer than that in Elberon with Glimmer, but she’s still not here, and that realization makes Catra a little panicky. Even though Catra sometimes hesitates to admit it out loud, her very protective wife who happens to be able to turn into an 8-foot-tall, sword-wielding warrior is deeply comforting, and she wants her here _now_.

Bow goes immediately into crisis mode as soon as Catra tells him what’s happening, finding a guard to fetch Catra’s doctor, rushing around to make Catra comfortable in her room.

Catra’s trying to tamp it down, but there’s still fear trying to clog her throat, even though the doctor has arrived. “Bow, Adora’s not here, and I know this takes time but I’m already early, and what if something happens and she’s not here, and what if—”

Bow grasps Catra’s hands in his and she stills, comforted by his reassuring gaze. “Catra, listen to me. I’m going to go get Adora. She’s not far, and we’ll be back in half an hour, maybe less. Everything’s going to be okay.”

She breathes in, out, setting a rhythm. “Okay. Just—hurry, please.” Bow gives her a quick hug in reply, hurriedly turning and leaving the room in search of Adora.

Catra is mostly okay, and she’s proud of herself for that. She goes through the breathing exercises Perfuma taught her to fill her lungs with more air, staving off the more intense bouts of anxiety. Her doctor assures her more than once that everything is going according to plan, that there’s nothing wrong with a week early.

Catra mentally lists all of the reasons in her head that everything is going to be okay, just like Bow said. She’s safe at home in her room, her doctors have all assured her that she and the baby are healthy, and Bow is getting Adora and Glimmer and soon they’ll be on their way.

She's going through this list in her mind for the tenth time when Adora suddenly enters the room, hair loose and flying out behind her in her haste, and Catra bursts into tears.

Adora is beside her in an instant, and even though Catra is crying, she’s not upset; she’s so relieved, like everything really _will_ be okay, and then Adora sits down next to her on their bed and pulls her close, and a sense of peace flows over her, calming her, and nothing seems so bad now, not as long as they’re together.

It’s quiet. 

Finn is sleeping. Finn is _small_. Finn is perfect. Their dark mess of hair peeks out from the top of the blanket George made.

It’s just the three of them, and it’s dim in their room except for a single lamp near the bed.

They’re staring at Finn, dazzled by them. 

Catra whispers it, not wanting to interrupt the magical feeling swirling peacefully about the room.

“We made this.”

Adora presses a light kiss to Catra’s temple. “You did the hard parts.”

“Yeah, I’m pretty incredible,” Catra whispers, scrunching her nose at Adora.

Adora breaths out a soft laugh. “Yes, you _are_.”

Tears fill the corners of Catra’s eyes for the hundredth time today.

“I just want to keep them _safe_.”

Adora rubs her thumbs up the back of Catra’s neck, massaging points of tension. “It’s not going to be like when we were little. We’re Finn’s mothers, and we’re in charge, and everything will be different for them.”

Catra closes her eyes, breathing, then opens them. She nods, slowly.

“Hey, guess what?” Adora says.

Catra looks up at her. “What?”

Adora locks eyes with Catra, wanting her to understand her full meaning. 

“We’re calling the shots now.”

Catra remembers, understands. She feels confident, and strong. Ready.

“We are, aren’t we?”

Four days later, George and Lance arrive, buzzing with excitement, and when Catra hands Finn to George, she doesn’t feel any apprehension, not even a little reservation. Finn is safe with them. She also feels an overwhelming sense of pride. _Look what I made_ , she thinks.

Lance and George coo and murmur to Finn. Finn wraps an impossibly tiny hand around Lance’s pinky finger and Lance declares it an already strong grip.

Finn yawns unexpectedly, and it’s so _cute_ , and Catra watches as Lance hands Finn to Adora, Adora’s enamored gaze not leaving Finn’s face for a moment. Adora cradles Finn in her strong arms and she looks up from Finn to look at Catra, amazement etched across her face.

“How did we get here?”

Catra breathes out a laugh.

“I don’t know. But thank goodness we did.”

\------

Finn is two years old, and running around, and sort of wreaking havoc everywhere, but in a way that’s somehow still _really_ cute.

At least the licking phase is over. For months they put everything in their mouth. Absolutely everything. Adora’s hair, Melog’s tail, and for one _terrifying_ moment, one of Bow’s arrows that Bow snatched away from Finn so fast, Finn didn’t even see how it happened. Another time Catra was playing with Finn in her and Adora’s bedroom, looked away for exactly one second, and when she turned back, Finn was licking the not quite _clean_ bedroom window.

And even though Finn has actual toys, their favorite things tend to be random objects like pots and pans from the kitchen and empty boxes. But they especially love a specific picture of their moms.

This one joined the first picture they took together and has been in Catra and Adora’s room ever since it was taken nearly three years ago, moving from the bedside table to the dresser, to the mantle above the fireplace, and then back to the bedside table. Catra loves this picture. Glimmer took this one. In it, Catra and Adora are sitting on a blanket by a bonfire they had in the Whispering Woods some months after Adora and Bow returned from the nearly disastrous mission on Darla. Adora is leaning against a fallen tree trunk, Catra’s back propped up against Adora’s front. They’re both smiling at something across the bonfire, Adora’s arms slung loosely around Catra’s middle. Catra loves this picture because in it, she’s pregnant, but they didn’t know it when the picture was taken. It feels, in a way, like it’s the first picture of all three of them.

Finn notices it one night when Catra is getting them ready for bed and demands, in their babbling baby speech, to see it up close. Catra lets Finn hold it, watching them intensely to make sure they don’t break the glass in the frame and cut themself, but in the end, she doesn’t need to worry. Finn stares at the photograph in their chubby hands, enraptured and silent.

Finn suddenly turns their big blue eyes to Catra, so much like Adora’s, and says one word: “Mamas.”

Catra melts like butter. Her heart thrums. “That’s right, baby. That’s mamas.”

Finn’s tiny forehead furrows in confusion. “Where me?”

Catra smooths her hand over Finn’s soft baby hair. “You weren’t born yet, honey. This is from before you were here.”

Finn looks at Catra _very_ skeptically at this information, seemingly suspicious about a time when their moms didn’t have them yet. They don’t ask any more questions for the moment, but when Catra tries to take the picture from them and put it back in its place, Finn shrieks and clutches the picture to their chest.

“No! Mine!”

“Finn, I’m just going to put it back—”

“No!” Finn is running away now, as fast as their little legs can take them, still holding the picture. Catra sprints after them, scooping them up in her arms, and Finn struggles at first, but Catra tickles them until they start giggling.

Catra kisses Finn’s nose. “You can hang onto it for a little while, but you have to be careful, and you have to let me brush your teeth. Deal?”

Finn giggles and nods, and they don’t wriggle quite as much this time when Catra brushes their teeth.

Finn’s small and yet impossibly strong hands don’t let go of the picture as Catra settles them into their crib. Adora comes in now, back from a long meeting with Glimmer that Catra ducked out of early to see to Finn’s bedtime. Catra is humming softly to Finn, who’s started to drift off to the sound, and Catra waves Adora over to stand beside her and the crib. Adora tiptoes over, not wanting to alert Finn to her presence, but she can’t help but gasp quietly when she sees.

Finn is mostly asleep now, but they’re still holding the picture in their arms.

“Our baby is the cutest baby that’s ever been,” Adora whispers.

Catra chuckles quietly and takes Adora’s hand in hers, twining their fingers together. “You know what? I think you’re right.”

They stand there for a few minutes, watching their baby sleep.

\------

Catra accidentally touches the hot baking dish she just took out of the oven and curses. “Oh, _shit_.” 

Catra claps her hand over her mouth, eyes wide. She whips her head around to look at Finn, who has been unexpectedly quiet for the last few minutes, contentedly playing with their wooden blocks on the kitchen floor while Catra bakes. They don’t seem to have heard her, apparently distracted by their blocks, so Catra crosses her fingers and hopes they didn’t, not giving it much more thought.

Until, that is, about a week later when they’re back in the kitchen, Adora handing Finn blackberries one by one as they toddle around the kitchen, Catra mixing up ingredients for pie crust. Bow is cooking with them this time, and he takes a dish out of the oven and sets it down, fanning it with a potholder.

Finn, grinning wide, looks at Bow and points at the dish. “Shit.”

Bow’s eyes are wide, mouth open, and he looks at Catra and Adora, who mirror his expression.

The three of them break into laughter at the same time in spite of themselves, and Finn, unfazed, proceeds to smear a crushed blackberry in their tiny palm on the kitchen wall.

\------

It’s after their daughter is born that they realize it’s time for a new family picture.

There’s scores of pictures of the kids together, and pictures of Adora and Catra with the kids separately, but in the happy chaos of Honora’s first year, they forget to take one of all four of them together.

A lot of them turn out much like they expected: the kids are wriggly, constantly trying to get away to crawl or walk or run, and if for some reason they _are_ still for a moment, they’re not looking at the camera.

That ends up being the one, though.

Adora and Catra are looking at each other, laughing at the absurdity of the attempt. Adora is holding Finn, who’s looking at Catra, and Catra is holding Nora, who’s looking at Adora. 

Catra puts this one on top of the piano in the living room, a surface now littered with pictures of their family: Finn holding Nora after she was born, Bow and Glimmer with both of the kids, Adora throwing a delighted Finn up into the air, Micah holding both of Nora’s hands as she takes a tentative step, George and Lance holding Nora between them as they read to her from one of her sturdy baby books.

The picture of Catra and Adora as teenagers is safe in a drawer in their room. It’s too raw, even now, but it’s important, and special, and they keep it. It might join the rest. One day, maybe. There’s time.

Catra pauses at the picture on the far right of the piano. It’s that first picture of her and Adora, the one Bow took in the garden not long after the war. It’s only been seven or eight years since it was taken, but Catra is struck by how young they look, and a little worn out, truthfully, from the intensity of the preceding months. But they look so _happy_. This picture is like looking at the beginning of something they’d had no idea was even possible yet. The beginning of a family that by all rights never should have existed, a family made by two lost girls who never had one until each other.

“Mama!”

It’s Nora’s voice from the other room.

“Coming, baby!” Catra glances back at the picture one more time and goes to find her daughter.

\------

Many, many, many years later, Catra can actually still count her most treasured worldly belongings on one hand.

Adora, their three children, and that photograph.

**Author's Note:**

> that is correct, I made up a daughter for them because I can do whatever I want lmao. I chose honora because I wanted a name ending in “ra” and because it’s pretty and sounds like it fits with some of the other canon princess names. also nora as a nickname is just too cute to me
> 
> I make a couple of references to one of my previous fics, carry our bodies safe to shore, and it wasn’t necessary to read that one first in order to read this one, but go check it out if you like for more context for the part where glimmer finds the picture of teenage catra and adora!
> 
> I loved reading the comments on my last fic. It makes my day to read y’all’s thoughts and makes me want to write even more. It makes a difference to know people are reading and enjoying what I make 💛
> 
> Come talk to me on my SPOP twitter (@ adoralovesgirls) and tumblr (seethingandsacred dot tumblr dot com)! ✨


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